probably make the apocalypse sexy. His libido didn’t seem to have a conscience; all his good intentions of staying focused and morally sound dissolved as soon as she kissed his cock, and his willpower had gone the way of ancient Rome. Just a few seconds of the memory made him hard. He’d thought the only way he’d ever see Kimber deep throat his cock would be via his dreams, but when she actually did it, he couldn’t have imagined it better—because it was one hundred percent real. And when she directed him inside her and rode him to oblivion…
But not even the recollection of Kimber’s tight cunt milking him dry and bringing him to the fringe of paradise could make him forget or ignore the immediate aftermath. She’d made his dreams come true, and he’d essentially dumped her minutes later. It was a scenario he’d thought less probable than her ever giving him head. Maybe such an unlikely event happening was signifying the aforementioned end of days. The impending arrival of the Four Horsemen was the only excuse he had for explaining his insane, out-of-character behavior. Was this traipse down the slippery slope toward mental illness a new development or something that had been lying dormant?
Jay was intensely afraid of the person he’d become. For all his insisting he’d intended to do the right thing, why then had he spent the past week, calling upon that one acting class he’d taken in college and working on a way to disguise his voice? Why would he do that if he’d planned to tell Kimber the truth? He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, sans his intensifying feelings for her and his self-loathing in himself.
He drove past Kimber’s apartment complex the next morning, noticing her car in the lot and cringing. He was scared to face her, to face her sadness and shock and then to try to comfort her while pretending he wasn’t the one who’d plunged her into misery. He’d help her wish a plague on the house of this heartless, nameless bastard who’d used her up and thrown her away—himself. Jesus, the situation became more screwed up by the second.
Jay turned the Monte Carlo around and parked in the empty spot beside Kimber’s battered coupe, unable to ignore the possibility of her in pain, especially since it was his fault. As he made his way to her door, he rationalized that this was the perfect time to not only offer his friendship and support but to do some damage control. He could play devil’s advocate and suggest reasons why her lover bailed to keep her self-esteem and optimism afloat. It seemed a fine plan, yet it still managed to deeply sicken him.
He knocked on the door to apartment 18 and waited as he heard footsteps muffled by carpet rush toward him. Then he heard a knock mimicking his come from the other side and the door unlock. He twisted the knob and stepped inside, where he saw Kimber settling on her futon, freshly showered and looking comfy in frayed jeans that were too big for her and a vintage-looking navy T-shirt displaying a Honolulu surfer.
She rested her laptop atop her crossed legs and gave him a brilliant smile. “Hey! This is unexpected.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” He shut the door behind him and eyed her with suspicion. No signs of tears, distress, or loss of sleep. Then again, women were tricky, deceitful creatures; talking to them was like negotiating a minefield. Kimber could combust into a rage at any given moment and body parts would start flying.
She gave him a strange look at his comment but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. “What brings you here?”
“Just passing by. Thought I’d check in.” There it was—the first truth he’d told in days. When had he turned into such a liar? He glanced around the room, unable to look at her for too long without wanting to crack. “The place is really coming along.”
“You think?” She chuckled and took a long pull on her juice box, her cheekbones caving until the staccato sound of
But not even the recollection of Kimber’s tight cunt milking him dry and bringing him to the fringe of paradise could make him forget or ignore the immediate aftermath. She’d made his dreams come true, and he’d essentially dumped her minutes later. It was a scenario he’d thought less probable than her ever giving him head. Maybe such an unlikely event happening was signifying the aforementioned end of days. The impending arrival of the Four Horsemen was the only excuse he had for explaining his insane, out-of-character behavior. Was this traipse down the slippery slope toward mental illness a new development or something that had been lying dormant?
Jay was intensely afraid of the person he’d become. For all his insisting he’d intended to do the right thing, why then had he spent the past week, calling upon that one acting class he’d taken in college and working on a way to disguise his voice? Why would he do that if he’d planned to tell Kimber the truth? He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, sans his intensifying feelings for her and his self-loathing in himself.
He drove past Kimber’s apartment complex the next morning, noticing her car in the lot and cringing. He was scared to face her, to face her sadness and shock and then to try to comfort her while pretending he wasn’t the one who’d plunged her into misery. He’d help her wish a plague on the house of this heartless, nameless bastard who’d used her up and thrown her away—himself. Jesus, the situation became more screwed up by the second.
Jay turned the Monte Carlo around and parked in the empty spot beside Kimber’s battered coupe, unable to ignore the possibility of her in pain, especially since it was his fault. As he made his way to her door, he rationalized that this was the perfect time to not only offer his friendship and support but to do some damage control. He could play devil’s advocate and suggest reasons why her lover bailed to keep her self-esteem and optimism afloat. It seemed a fine plan, yet it still managed to deeply sicken him.
He knocked on the door to apartment 18 and waited as he heard footsteps muffled by carpet rush toward him. Then he heard a knock mimicking his come from the other side and the door unlock. He twisted the knob and stepped inside, where he saw Kimber settling on her futon, freshly showered and looking comfy in frayed jeans that were too big for her and a vintage-looking navy T-shirt displaying a Honolulu surfer.
She rested her laptop atop her crossed legs and gave him a brilliant smile. “Hey! This is unexpected.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” He shut the door behind him and eyed her with suspicion. No signs of tears, distress, or loss of sleep. Then again, women were tricky, deceitful creatures; talking to them was like negotiating a minefield. Kimber could combust into a rage at any given moment and body parts would start flying.
She gave him a strange look at his comment but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. “What brings you here?”
“Just passing by. Thought I’d check in.” There it was—the first truth he’d told in days. When had he turned into such a liar? He glanced around the room, unable to look at her for too long without wanting to crack. “The place is really coming along.”
“You think?” She chuckled and took a long pull on her juice box, her cheekbones caving until the staccato sound of
Similar Books
